_Mar._ I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
Worse than a promise-breaker.
_Auf._ We hate alike;
Not Afric owns a serpent, I abhor
More than thy fame and envy.
SHAKSPEARE.
La Tour, in the darkness of the night succeeding his departure from St.
John's, had found it impossible to communicate with Stanhope; and,
prudently consulting his own safety in view of the approaching storm, he
crowded sail, hoping to reach some haven, before the elements commenced
their fearful conflict. In his zeal for personal security, he persuaded
himself, that Arthur's nautical skill would extricate him from danger;
but he forgot the peculiar difficulties to which he was exposed by his
ignorance of the coast, and also, that he was embarked in a vessel far
less prepared than his own, to encounter the heavy gale which seemed
mustering from every quarter of the heavens. Perfectly familiar,
himself, with a course which he frequently traversed,--in an excellent
ship, and assisted by experienced seamen,--he was enabled to steer,
with comparative safety, through the almost tangible darkness; and,
early on the following morning, he entered the smoother waters of
Penobscot Bay, and anchored securely in one of the numerous harbors
which it embraces.
The day passed away, and brought no tidings from Stanhope; and De
Valette, though their friendship had of late been interrupted by
coldness and distrust, had too much generosity to feel insensible to his
probable danger. But La Tour expressed the utmost confidence that he had
found some sheltering port,--as the whole extent of coast abounds with
harbors, which may be entered with perfect security,--and the night
proving too tempestuous to venture abroad for intelligence, De Valette
was obliged to rest contented with hoping for the best.
La Tour wishing to obtain more minute information respecting the
situation of D'Aulney, intended to proceed, first, to Pemaquid; and,
should Stanhope, from any cause, fail of joining him, he might probably
receive assistance from the English at that place, who had always been
friendly to him, and were particularly interested in suppressing the
dreaded power of M. d'Aulney. But, while busied in preparation, on the
day succeeding the storm, and repairing the slight damage which his
vessel had sustained, the report of some fishermen entirely changed the
plan and destiny of the expedition. La Tour learned from them, that
D'Aulney was at that time absent from his fort, having left it, two or
three days before, with a small party, to go on a hunting excursion up
the river Penobscot. His garrison, they added, had been recently
reduced, by fitting out a vessel for France, to return with ammunition,
and other supplies, in which he was extremely deficient.
This information determined La Tour to attack the fort without delay.
Every thing seemed to favor his wishes, and hold out a prospect of
success. Though small in numbers, he placed perfect confidence in the
courage of his men, most of whom had long adhered to his service, and
followed him in the desultory skirmishes in which he frequently engaged.
Impetuous to a fault, and brave even to rashness, he had, as yet, been
generally successful in his undertakings, and, though often unimportant,
even to his own interests, they were marked by a reckless contempt of
danger, calculated to inspirit and attach the followers of such an
adventurer.
La Tour, piloted by a fisherman whom he took aboard, landed on a
peninsula, since called Bagaduce point, on which the fort was situated.
He intended to make his first attack on a farm-house of D'Aulney's,
where he was told some military stores were lodged; and, from thence,
bring up his men in rear of the fort. He sanguinely believed, that in
the absence of the commander, it would soon yield to his sudden and
impetuous assault; or, if he had been in any respect deceived, that it
would be easy to secure a safe retreat to the boats from which he had
landed. De Valette, in the mean time, was ordered to divert the
attention of the garrison, by sailing before the walls; and, if
necessary, to afford a more efficient succor.
In perfect silence, La Tour led on his little band through tangled
copse-wood and impervious shades; and, with measured tread, and thoughts
intent upon the coming strife, they crushed, unheeded, the wild flower
which spread its simple charms before them, and burst asunder the
beautiful garlands which summer had woven around their path. The melody
of nature was hushed at their approach; the birds nestled in their leafy
coverts; the timid hare bounded before their steps, and the squirrel
looked down in silence from his airy height, as they passed on, and
disturbed the solitude of the peaceful retreat.
They at length emerged from the sheltering woods, and entered an
extensive plain, which had been cleared and cultivated, and, in the
midst of which, stood the farm-house, already mentioned. It was several
miles from the fort; a few men were stationed there, but the place was
considered so secure, from its retired situation, that they were
generally employed in the labors of agriculture. La Tour's party
approached almost within musket shot, before the alarm was given, and
the defenders had scarcely time to throw themselves into the house, and
barricade the doors and windows. The besiegers commenced a violent
onset, and volley succeeded volley, with a rapidity which nothing could
withstand. The contest was too unequal to continue long; La Tour soon
entered the house a conqueror, secured all who were in it as prisoners,
and took possession of the few munitions which had been stored there. He
then ordered the building to be set on fire, and the soldiers, with
wanton cruelty, killed all the domestic animals which were grazing
around it. Neither party sustained any loss; two or three only were
wounded, and those, with the prisoners, were sent back, under a
sufficient guard, to the boats; the remainder turned from the scene of
destruction with utter indifference, and again proceeded towards the
fort.
The noontide sun was intensely hot, and they halted a few moments on the
verge of an extensive forest, to rest in its cooling shade, and allay
their thirst from a limpid stream which gurgled from its green recesses.
Scarcely had they resumed the line of march, when a confused sound burst
upon their ears; and instantly, the heavy roll of a drum reverberated
through the woods, and a party rushed on them, from its protecting
shades, with overpowering force. La Tour, with a courage and presence of
mind which never deserted him, presented an undaunted front to the foe,
and urged his followers by encouragement and commands, to stand firm,
and defend themselves to the last extremity. A few only emulated his
example; the rest, seized with an unaccountable panic, sought refuge in
flight, or surrendered passively to the victors.
La Tour, in vain, endeavoured to rally them; surrounded by superior
numbers, and their retreat entirely intercepted, submission or
destruction seemed inevitable. But his proud spirit could ill brook an
alternative which he considered so disgraceful; and, left to sustain the
conflict alone, he still wielded his sword with a boldness and
dexterity, that surprised and distanced every opponent. Yet skill and
valor united were unavailing against such fearful odds; and the weapon
which he would never have voluntarily relinquished, was at length
wrested from his grasp.
A smile of triumph brightened the gloomy features of M. d'Aulney, as he
met the eye of his proud and defeated enemy; but La Tour returned it by
a glance of haughty defiance, which fully expressed the bitterness of
his chafed and unsubdued feelings. He then turned to his humbled
followers, and surveyed them with a look of angry contempt, beneath
which, the boldest shrunk abashed.
"Cowards!" he exclaimed, yielding to his indignation; "fear ye to meet
my eye? would that its lightnings could blast ye, perjured and recreant
that ye are! ay, look upon the ground, which should have drank your
heart's blood before it witnessed your disgrace; look not on me, whom
you have betrayed--look not on the banner of your country, which you
have stained by this day's cowardice!"
A low murmur rose from the rebuked and sullen soldiers; and D'Aulney,
fearing some disturbance, commanded silence, and ordered his people to
prepare for instant march.
"For you, St. Etienne, lord of la Tour," he said, "it shall be my care
to provide a place of security, till the pleasure of our lawful
sovereign is made known concerning you."
"To that sovereign I willingly appeal," replied La Tour; "and, if a
shadow of justice lingers around his throne, the rights which you have
presumed to arrogate will be restored to me, and my authority
established on a basis, which you will not venture to dispute."
"Let the writ of proscription be first revoked," said D'Aulney, with a
sneer; "let the names of rebel, and traitor, be blotted from your
escutcheon, before you appeal to that justice, or reclaim an authority
which has been long since annulled."
"False, and mean-spirited!" exclaimed La Tour, scornfully; "you stoop to
insult a prisoner, who is powerless in your hands, but from whose
indignation you would cower, like the guilty thing you are, had I
liberty and my good sword to revenge your baseness! Go, use me as you
will, use me as you _dare_, M. d'Aulney, but remember the day of
vengeance may ere long arrive."
"_My_ day of vengeance _has_ arrived," returned D'Aulney, and his eye
flashed with rage; "and you will rue the hour in which you provoked my
slumbering wrath."
"Your wrath has _never_ slumbered," replied La Tour, "and my hatred to
you will mingle with the last throb of my existence. Like an evil demon,
you have followed me through life; you blighted the hopes of my
youth,--the interests and ambition of my manhood have been thwarted by
your machinations, and I have now no reason to look for mercy at your
hands; still I defy your malice, and I bid you triumph at your peril."
"We have strong holds in that fort which you have so long wished to
possess," said D'Aulney, with provoking coolness; "and traitors, who are
lodged there, have little chance of escape."
La Tour refrained from replying, even by a glance: the soldiers, at that
moment, commenced their march; and guarded, with ostentatious care, he
walked apart from the other prisoners towards the fort. The angry aspect
of his countenance yielded to an expression of calm contempt, and
through the remainder of the way he preserved an unbroken silence.
In the mean time, De Valette had strictly obeyed the instructions of La
Tour. His appearance before the fort evidently excited much sensation
there; and though he kept at a prudent distance, he could observe the
garrison in motion, and ascertain from their various evolutions, that
they were preparing for a vigorous defence. He ordered his vessel to be
put in a state for action, and waited impatiently to see the standard
of D'Aulney supplanted by that of De la Tour. But his illusions were
dispelled by the return of a boat with the prisoners, taken at the
farm-house, and a few soldiers who had escaped by flight from the fate
of their companions. Vexed and mortified by a result so unexpected, De
Valette hesitated what course to pursue. La Tour had not thought
necessary to provide for such an exigence, as he never admitted the
possibility of falling a prisoner into the hands of D'Aulney. His
lieutenant, therefore, determined to sail for Pemaquid, to seek
assistance, which would enable him, at least, to recover the liberty of
La Tour. He also hoped to gain some information respecting Stanhope,
whose services at that crisis were particularly desirable.
M. d'Aulney had returned to his fort unexpectedly on the morning of that
day; and the approach of La Tour was betrayed to him by a boy, who
escaped from the farm-house, at the beginning of the skirmish. Nothing
could have gratified his revenge more completely, than to obtain
possession of the person of his rival; and this long desired object was
thus easily attained, at a moment when least expected.
The prejudices of a superior are readily embraced by those under his
authority; and, as La Tour approached the fort, every eye glanced
triumphantly on him, and every countenance reflected, in some degree,
the vindictive feelings of the commander. But he endured their gaze
with stern indifference, and his step was as firm, and his bearing as
lofty, as if he entered the gates a conqueror. A small apartment,
attached to the habitable buildings of the fort, which had often served
on similar occasions, was prepared; for a temporary prison, until his
final destination was determined. D'Aulney, himself, examined this
apartment with the utmost caution, lest any aperture should be
unnoticed, through which the prisoner might effect his escape. La Tour,
during this research, remained guarded in an adjoining passage, and
through the open door, he perceived, with a smile of scorn, what indeed
seemed the superfluous care, which was taken to provide for his
security. The soldiers waited at a respectful distance, awed by the
courage he had displayed, and the anger which still flashed from his
full dark eye.
In this interval, La Tour's attention was attracted by the sound of
light footsteps advancing along the passage; and immediately a delicate
female figure passed hastily on towards a flight of stairs, not far from
the spot where he was standing. Her motions were evidently confused and
timid, plainly evincing that she had unconsciously entered among the
soldiers; and her features were concealed by a veil, which she drew
closely around them. She flitted rapidly by La Tour, but at a little
distance paused, in a situation which screened her from every eye but
his. Throwing back her veil, she looked earnestly at him; a deep blush
overspread her face, and pressing her finger on her lips, in token of
silence, she swiftly descended the stairs.
That momentary glance subdued every stormy passion of his soul; early
scenes of joy and sorrow rushed on his remembrance, and clasping his
hands across his brow, he stood, for a time, unmindful of all around
him, absorbed by his excited thoughts. But the voice of D'Aulney again
sounded in his ears, and renewed the strife of bitter feelings, which
had been so briefly calmed. His cheek glowed with deeper resentment, and
it required a powerful effort of self-command to repress the invective
that trembled on his lips, but which, he felt, it would be more than
useless to indulge. He entered his prison, therefore, in silence; and,
with gloomy immobility, listened to the heavy sound of the bolts, which
secured the door, and consigned him to the dreariness of profound
solitude.